


Unbroken Love

by withinmelove



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:04:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/pseuds/withinmelove
Summary: Elio gets a surprise nighttime visitor in the form of Oliver returning to Italy a year later.A fix it fic where Oliver doesn't get married.





	Unbroken Love

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely inspired by _Dangerously_ by Charlie Puth: https://youtu.be/rjDqEBdSbSw

Elio rolls over onto his back, sighing up at the darkened ceiling of his bedroom. He’s been restless all day and that didn’t stop at bedtime. It’s been two hours since he laid down. Too lazy to get up and putz around, but too awake for sleep to be close at hand. A long exaggerated sigh gusts out of him. He does it again just for something to do. Before he can repeat it a third time even louder, the sound of the front door has him bolting upright. 

A look to the clock on his nightstand says it’s one in the morning. Who’s coming into the villa at this time? Fright needles at his insides as he strains to hear more from downstairs.

He had come to the villa despite it being February. Mafalda checks on him every couple of weekends, but otherwise stays at home with Mum and Dad. The freedom is pleasant even though Mum and Dad have never been restrictive of what he gets up to or how long he’s out for. The intense lazy heat of summer makes protective parenting too much work. Really, what he came here for was the silence and solitude. Like any recent young adult, he’s been brooding about life. Specifically what he wants to do after school and where he wants to go. Both of his parents are happy for him to go explore the world if university isn’t his first choice.

 _America_ had been his first impulsive thought when Dad had inquired where Elio would want to travel to first. Dad must have guessed at that, because he had given a pained smile. 

“Juilliard would be a perfect fit,” Dad had softly murmured. Elio had had to turn away for a moment, swallowing hard. It’s stupid. He should be over Oliver by now. He’s not called once since he left, only sent bland postcards from various states. Each one feels like a small dig even though Mum and Dad love getting them.

But back to the matter at hand; hearing someone come inside in the dead of night is _not_ normal. Few of his friends are in town at this time of year, so it’s certainly not them. The villa being old means Elio can hear whoever is walking around, the floor creaking under their weight, and they’re _coming upstairs!_ ; In a flash, he’s out of bed, hands and feet tingling as he looks for a weapon. There are plenty of books in his room, but how likely is that to stop a burglar?

He’s on his stomach half-scuttling under his bed when the knock on his door causes him to freeze, breathing in dust. Who the fuck knocks when robbing a place? Is the person trying to see if someone will answer back? Elio thinks he might possibly piss himself out of terror. 

“Elio?” Another small sharp knock. “Elio?" 

Breathing isn’t a function Elio’s lungs remember right now. For that matter, his muscles have forgotten how to move. It’s not real, he’s hallucinating, the burglar hit him over the head before he realized it and now he’s hearing voices. 

The door pushes open with the sound of cellophane crinkling and there’s Oliver standing over him. Confused amusement is on his face. He’s as handsome as he was a year ago. If anything, his hair might be a shade lighter. He’s even wearing that dark green shirt Elio had told him perfectly complimented his hair. The one that stands out vividly in his mind from their time in Germany. 

"Were you trying to hide?” Oliver asks, kneeling down and putting what he’s holding aside before lying flat on his stomach to be level with him. He rests his chin over his folded arms. 

"I thought you were a burglar.” The words come out as a whisper. Without asking, he reaches out to sink his fingers into Oliver’s fair hair. This earns a pleased hum, a blissful smile crossing Oliver’s lips as Elio scratches his scalp. _Fuck_ the sound has warmth blossoming low in Elio’s stomach. How much sway Oliver and his noises still have over him. 

“I wouldn’t have knocked or brought you gifts if I was,” Oliver chuckles. Elio blinks, looking over to squint at the shapes in the dark. In response, Oliver pushes them closer to reveal a bouquet of roses, a box of fancy chocolates, and...a plushie of a peach. Tears rush to Elio’s eyes as his lips tremble. The soft mirth vanishes from Oliver’s face, replaced with concerned confusion. 

He reaches out. “Elio.” Elio lets go of Oliver’s hair, covering his eyes instead, a stifled sob slipping out. 

"Why did you come back?! You never called - _I was moving on!_ ” Elio spits out, humiliated how his voice has become high-pitched and quavering. The very last thing he sounds like is being over Oliver. God, he forgot how his feelings towards him were never a calm little crush. But even in the midst of his tearful anger, he savors Oliver, stroking his hair, winding his curls around his finger. How such a small touch manages to be soothing despite the turmoil that exact same touching brings. 

"I came back because I love you and I was a stupid coward not to call. I thought it’d be enough to just send postcards…” Oliver swallows, his voice turning hoarse. “I was wrong. It hurt so much, but by the time I wanted to come back I assumed you had moved on, found someone who loved you without fear.” Here Oliver’s voice breaks, and Elio can’t stand to hear his love so crushed by guilt. He wipes at his eyes before squirming closer. Oliver’s hand slides down to the nape of his neck, his short fingernails gently scraping at the downy hair there. 

"That you hated me for leaving you so heartbroken,” Oliver rasps out, as if he can barely force himself to admit that. It’s inappropriate, but a wet giggle bursts out of Elio. It hurts. Oliver’s grasp tightens in response. 

“I never hated you. I loved you too much even when you were scared,” Elio whispers as he leans in, kissing Oliver’s cheek. A turn of Oliver’s head and their lips brush. 

"I love you too, Elio.” Oliver breathes. God, his body feels lit up from the inside out. He wouldn’t trade anything in the world for this passionate temperamental love. 

It’s not until after Elio wakes up (it’s not until the late afternoon) curled around Oliver does he realize something. 

Oliver returned to him on Valentine’s Day. 

**Author's Note:**

> My beta zilia who I adore and continue to ask favors from did a quick edit of this for me! She's such a wonderful beta indulging me.


End file.
